Snakes and Ladders: the Seven Year Challenge
by Biohazard child
Summary: A 2nd generation challenge: from Year 1 to Year 7 in the lives of Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. Mostly canon compliant; 5 small ficlets per year at Hogwarts. Slash, AS/S style. Rated K, but will go up as story progresses. Chapter 8 is up!
1. Year 1: Mutual Dislike

**A/N: **O hai everyone. :) This isn't really a new story; I've been posting these chapters over on Livejournal for a while now, but since finally added Scorp and Al to their character list, I figured I might as well update here too!

AS/S (Albus Severus x Scorpius) is my OTP, kthx. This story is basically a short recollection of their Hogwarts years – 5 for each year that passes, resulting in 35 fics overall. It's fully canon-compliant. You can expect slash, since I ship them, but not until the very later years.

They're not Harry and Draco clones either - I've tried to make them their fathers' sons yet let them be themselves too.

Al and Scorp don't belong to me, btw

* * *

1st Year: 1/5  
**PROMPT**:_MUTUAL DISLIKE_

Where had James and Rosie gone?

Albus stood at the door of an empty compartment with his hand on the oak paneling, anxiously surveying the long walkway of the Hogwarts Express. He marveled at his ability to lose everyone in sight – his cousin had disappeared somewhere along the train and James had gone off with his 2nd year friends; he knew they were somewhere harassing the trolley witch. James always bragged about it to him and Lily when Mum and Dad weren't around.

"Are you going to go in or not?" A drawling voice broke through his thoughts. Albus blinked, staring up at a thin, haughty looking boy with blond hair and dark eyes.

"Um, yeah," he managed to sputter before squeezing into the room, eyeing the other boy's large gray owl that hooted indignantly from the cage. "A-are all the other compartments full?"

What was his name? It was something weird – Scorpion? Something like that? He sometimes heard Uncle Ron talk about the Malfoys in the Ministry when they came over to dinner, but the discussion was often clipped and short.

Malfoy replied with a grunt and settled his pet on the next seat. Albus was glad to see him sit; he looked a great deal smaller when he sat. The boy stood several inches above him already – questionably thin but nowhere as frightening as his father, even though they were almost doppelgängers. Albus had caught a glance at Draco Malfoy on Platform ¾; the tall man was incredibly cold looking.

An awkward silence blanketed the two, save for a few hoots from the owl; Albus wondered briefly if he should initiate conversation, but it probably wasn't a good idea… he was never very good at ice-breakers.

"Your father's Harry Potter, correct?" The question erupted in the quiet, and Albus looked up to see Malfoy give him a pained, curious look.

"U-um, how did you know?" Albus asked. He had gotten asked that a few times, coupled with the same strange look.

"You sort of look like him, at least you kind of do in the Chocolate Frog pictures of him," Malfoy's cheeks had turned a faint, blotchy pink – as if his confession was something much more embarrassing. "Not that I keep them or anything." He added quickly, though it was a much softer mutter. "Father doesn't let me…"

"Oh," replied Albus with an odd expression – he had never seen Dad on a Chocolate Frog, but then again, he didn't like them very much. "Why doesn't he?" Instantly he realized this was a very tactless question – somehow, he knew their fathers didn't see eye to eye. However, Uncle Ron was delighted to tell him all about that 'git' Malfoy and how cowardly he was – it was just a list of bad qualities, really.  
_  
And he's a priss_, Albus recited silently, twiddling his fingers absentmindedly, _and a real fruitcake. Whatever that means._

"He doesn't like your father." said the boy, obviously not entirely comfortable with the subject. Albus, who was not as thick and oblivious as his older brother, promptly shut up.

Suddenly the door was wrenched open and James peered in, a mischievous grin splitting his face at the sight of the pair in the compartment. Albus noted with scorn at the large amount of Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills and various other sweets that James held in his arms.

"You're hanging out with _him_?" he jeered, "you really are going to be in Slytherin, Al."

Albus paled and scowled, "James! Mum told you to stop saying that."

"You heard Uncle Ron – he'll disown you if you go in there!"

Hearing the glee in his brother's voice, Albus' scowl only deepened. "He only said that to Hugo! By the way, where's Rosie?"

James shrugged and closed the door behind him – apparently his younger brother had expended his relatively short attention span; Albus heard him laughing with his friends outside.

"I don't like him. No offense."

Albus turned back to the Scorpion-something-or-other, who had a look of disdain plastered across his face, leaning against the elbow he had propped on the armrest. His dark eyes flickered to the door and back to the smaller boy in front of him. Albus chuckled – he couldn't help it; Malfoy's unimpressed look amused him greatly.

"To be honest, neither do I."

They both shared a small smile.

"Scorpius." The boy leaned forward on his seat and offered a hand.

Albus hesitated for a moment – it was good to have a friend, but wasn't Scorpius going to be in Slytherin? He hated to see James' face if he accepted the friendship of a Slytherin. But Dad – Dad had said it was alright. And besides… it wasn't like he was pledging himself to the House. He was a Gryffindor.

He took Scorpius' hand and shook it firmly.

"Al."


	2. Year 1: Choice

**A/N:** :( I love you Blaise. –cries quietly in the corner-

Sorry about the first boring chapters. :P Need to set up the environment and stuff. Since this is canon-compliant, and Ms. Rowling has stated quite clearly that Prof McGonagall has retired, and that the Deputy Head Headmaster are completely new...

My Deputy Headmistress is **Professor Everard**, an older witch with a wicked sense of humour. She worked in the Ministry (Magical Transportation) before coming to Hogwarts. Her previous house was Hufflepuff.

My Headmaster is **Professor Harcliffe**, a distant relative of Professor Sprout. :) He's somewhat short (shorter than Everard anyways); he hails from Ravenclaw and was on the Wizengamot council, then came to Hogwarts to teach Charms in place of Professor Flitwick, who has since retired.

* * *

1st Year: 2/5**  
PROMPT:**CHOICE

He never imagined he would be arguing with a hat.

Albus scowled, features scrunched up as he sat underneath the raggedy thing. It smelled a little burnt, like Mum's food whenever she tried to make something new and complicated. The scent made his eyes water slightly.

He had also expected the sorting to be more exciting. After all, this was a pivotal point in his life. In actuality, it'd gone by rather quickly, Alver through Plairosch, and now as he sat under that great Sorting Hat, Al couldn't help but think the whole process was rather anticlimactic.

'_Ahhh, another Potter. Your father was a piece of work._' The sentient object's voice was wheezy in his head - old and itchy sounding, '_Now… what house do you belong to? Nothing like your brother, I see. You're a little timid but a hard worker… Maybe Hufflepuff would be a good house for you?_'

'No!' Al thought with as much intensity as he could, 'Not Hufflepuff! James'll die laughing.'

'_You want to go in Gryffindor?_' asked the hat, and for a split second, Albus thought it just sniggered at him.

'Preferably, yes. My parents and all my relatives were in Gryffindor! Dad said you'd let me choose… But please, not Hufflepuff… I think I might even prefer Slytherin over Huff – '

'_Slytherin… You could be successful, with some work, in that House as well. Choose, boy. Hufflepuff or Slytherin?_'

'Wha – No! That's not what I meant by choose – why not Gryffindor?'

'_If you won't, I will._'

Resentfully, Al picked his choice. The statement 'Trapped between a rock and a hard place' seemed to be all too appropriate for this situation.

With one last smug snort, the Sorting Hat bellowed.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The entire hall gasped. Albus heard them. All of them. The sound was horrible. It was followed up by the most terrible hush that had settled on the Great Hall. He opened his eyes; the entire Gryffindor table looked stunned, and he couldn't find James… but really, Al didn't want to see him.

Deputy Headmaster Everard's voice broke the lapsing silence of the hall as she spoke, tone quiet and too grave to make Al feel any better.

"Mr. Potter, please continue to your House table… there are still more students to be sorted."

Face and eyes burning, Albus took the Hat off, his hands trembling in temptation to rip it apart. Instead, he reined it in, ignoring the frozen faces of his Gryffindor almost-peers and proceeded to the chattering Slytherin table, where he was addressed with as many pointed stares and as minimal physical contact as possible.

He heard the whispers as he walked towards his new House, "Merlin, a Potter in Slytherin?" "His dad must be furious." "How the hell did he get in Slytherin?", which made him even more nervous as he sat at the longtable, awkwardly squeezing himself between a pretty girl with black curls (Nott, was it?) and a large boy who glared daggers at him. Albus swallowed; he wasn't going to live past his first year here…

"Really Potter, how did you get into Slytherin?"

The familiar voice jerked Al out of his troubled thoughts.

"Scorpius!"

The boy smirked and Albus noted momentarily how odd it looked.

Putting down his fork, Scorpius gave Al a particularly skeptical look. "So, did the Hat play you?

"No," Al mumbled gloomily, picking up his cutlery as well and made small tinkling noises against his goblet in anxiety, "I chose Slytherin."

Pale brows shot up comically; the boy looked altogether too surprised than his features would allow.

"What?" Albus asked reproachfully, feeling his heart squeeze painfully. Realization hit him like a giant slap on the face – he was going to spend the next seven years in the dungeons, eating at their table and being glowered at by the rest of the school.

"Well, a Potter in Slytherin… is… a little rare. To say the least. And you chose… against Gryffindor?" Scorpius was picking his words carefully, giving the small boy a serious look. Albus' eyes were bright, he noted, with tears. The pale boy looked away; crying was something Father abhorred, and the tears made him feel guilty - regardless if he was or was not the cause of them.

Al said nothing in reply, but heard the next name called by the Headmistress.

'_Weasley, Rose!_'

He turned around quickly – his cousin trudged up to the seat, dragging her feet, no doubt perturbed by Al's strange sorting.

However, his sorting was obviously not a factor in Rose's own as the Hat barked 'GRYFFINDOR' two seconds after it was placed on the girl's head.

A deluge of jealousy and guilt choked him; Al felt his throat burn and he coughed, a deep coolness curling at the pit of his stomach. He finally spotted his brother from the corner of his eye, congratulating Rose; the whole Gryffindor table was laughing and welcoming the girl.

"Chin up Potter," came Scorpius' voice, dry and amused, bringing Al's attention back to his own meal, "Slytherin doesn't approve of the half-hearted." He had risen his goblet in front of him in a small toast.

Al exhaled; he was sure his Housemates were giving both of them strange looks but upon further observation, they had actually started to dig into the dishes, having better things to do then notice the warm exchange between the two boys.

_Half-hearted_?

Picking up his own goblet that gave off the sweet scent of pumpkin, Al tapped it against Scorpius' with a clink, and then downed his cup. "But I don't think I'm going to live long enough here to find out…"

Scorpius smiled, taking a sip of the juice and grimaced at its saccharine contents. "Just watch Potter, you'll be a snake in no time."


	3. Year 1: Warning

**A/N:**New chapter! Scorpie-centric this time. :)

Jenefur – These are ficlets, not complete fics. I think between each ficlet, there's many days of skipped time. I'm too lazy to write a serious AS/S story. X)

Schermione - -snort- Dirty jokes are always fun, y/y? Anyways the rating will go up.. around 4th year I'll be changing it to T, and by 6th it will be M. :)

* * *

1st Year: 3/5  
**PROMPT:**_Warning_

Scorpius looked at the letter in his hand glumly. He was amazed his father hadn't sent a Howler, but he knew Father hated them himself. Without another moment of hesitation, the boy broke the Malfoy seal and heard the wax tear; it was like hearing his own demise. Scorpius also knew it had to be something to do with Al – and it wasn't good. Father never wrote to him unless it was something bad. Scorpius was the one who wrote to Mother and Father with reports and monthly happenings, not the other way around. The boy turned into an empty hallway and he unfolded the manila pages and read the neat handwriting.

___Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,_

___I fear I have not have properly warned you. Before you left, Scorpius, I believe I instructed _distinctly_ that you would stay away from anyone carrying the surname of Potter or Weasley. I realize you may have a hard time complying with this – upon finding the various Harry Potter memorabilia in your room, I must imagine your idolatry of Potter must have increased with the sorting of his son._

___Now, I will not be foolish enough to forbid any chance of friendship. But be warned, his family will only look upon your own surname with scorn - something the Malfoy name does not deserve. Nevertheless, I implore you to look at what you have accomplished so far and wonder if it is worth the questionable happiness it may bring you._

___Your Mother sends her love._

___Your Father,  
Draco Malfoy_

He stalled in the hallway, cheeks flushing at his father's discovery of that mahogany box hidden away in the back of his armoire. His fingers ran over the seal again and he looked at the pale paper gloomily. The letter seemed rather unnecessary now - Al didn't really seem to have an interest in pursuing a friendship; he could be seen constantly around the Gryffindors with his brother and the Weasley girl. It was unfortunate, thought Scorpius, because many Slytherins were becoming irked by the constant visitation they had outside the common rooms, or sometimes how the boy's brother lingered around their table.

Shrugging because it really wasn't his prerogative to steer things right, he turned around to return to the Great Hall.

"Who's the scumbag that gave me up to my father?" he muttered before tucking the letter away in his robes.

"_I'm_that scumbag," came a cool, soft voice from behind him. Scorp whirled around, only to meet the glinting amber eyes of his head of house.

His jaw dropped. "P-professor Zabini?"

The Slytherin head was a dark, malevolent-looking man with a soft tone that made you hang onto every word he said. Rumor said that whenever the Professor smiled, something died; Scorpius had seen Nathaniel Davies' rat as proof.

Zabini's lip curled – Scorpius reassured himself that it wasn't a smile and that Hector was safe – before speaking.

"I'd get back to the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, Malfoy." He said quietly, and without another word, swept past him down the empty hallway.

Scorpius broke into a run down the corridor, across the cobblestones of the courtyard. Mind swimming – it had never crossed his mind that Father would know his head of house – and subsequently failed to notice the oncoming group of students, smashing directly into another boy before falling backwards onto the tile.

"Ugh…"

His eyes flitted open to reveal several long pairs of legs and Scorpius looked upwards to find the angry glare of James Potter on him.

"Sorry – oh wait, you're that Malfoy that Dad was talking about…"

James narrowed his eyes in dislike and Scorpius' heart hammered harder at the thought of _Harry Potter_ talking about him… but obviously not in any good favor. His heart dropped at the idea that a hero was prejudicing him to his son without actually meeting him…

A smaller form squeezed from the tall boy's side and stuck out a skinny arm. "Are you alright, Scorp?"

"Potter – Al?" He took it however and was pulled upright with a grunt. The Slytherin dusted his robes off, finding to his pleasure that he was almost as tall as James while being quite a bit younger. He noted how odd the group looked, the crimson and gold ties of Gryffindor and one smaller green one – Al's. Unfortunately, the smallest member of their crew stuck out like a sore thumb.

Scorpius recognized the others – Finnegan, Berklin and Jordan, all 2nd years and identical in their expressions of dislike.

"Um yeah," Al spoke quietly, evidently to escape his brother's hearing, "James has been dragging me around… it's a little silly. Says I need all the Gryffindor friends since I'm in Slytherin…"

"C'mon, Al! We gotta meet Rose for lunch."

The boy looked back and nodded, "Yeah alright, just a sec – I'm talking to Scorp."

All four exchanged glances before hollering again. Scorp scowled before walking towards James.

"May I graciously have a minute of Albus' time? I'm sure you, as ringleader, can spare a minute." He whispered, voice bordering on a hiss.

James frowned but nodded stiffly – the Gryffindors backed up a few feet away, as if to protect their newest charge if Scorp dared to do anything shifty.

"Look, Al." Scorp wanted to explain the little predicament the boy had, "I don't want to come off weird or oppressive or anything – I don't know you well enough. But these past two or three weeks, you've been bringing them around the Slytherin tables and the common rooms. I get that they're taking you under their wing – it's understandable. But it's also really, really dangerous. I've heard Goyle and Flint talking about you already, about how you're a chicken in a snake pit."

Al paled, looking shaken but nodded mutely.

"It's just a heads up. Goyle and Flint are just some of the seniors that are talking about you – and if it's coming from them it's much more hazardous than gossip. Just… uh – yeah, watch out, ok?"

Again, the boy nodded. "Thanks, Scorp."

Without hesitation, Al looked back before yelling (in a voice that surprised Scorpius because of its volume), "Go on ahead without me! I'm having lunch with Scorp!"

"What?!"

"Yeah! See you guys!"

Al waved back; the taller boy watched the group look at each other in disbelief before trudging off.

"You didn't have to come eat with me…" replied Scorpius in embarrassment, pink dusting his cheeks. "I don't want to keep you from your brother or anything, it was just a notice."

The smaller boy shook his head. "No, I'm going to have lunch with Slytherins from now on. It is my house after all… and James said he wouldn't care if I got placed in Slytherin, so I think he'll understand."

With a last look at the fading Gryffindors, Scorpius grimaced. "Let's hope so…"


	4. Year 1: Flight

**A/N:** Another one... enjoy!

* * *

1st Year: 4/5

**PROMPT:** _Flight_

Al couldn't keep still.

Madame Vince was glaring at them, barking an order that couldn't quite reach his ears. Al didn't like her – she was a rather pudgy woman, her cropped black hair sitting in ruffled pieces on her head in such a fashion it looked like birds had chewed bits of it out. Occasionally during her speech, the Quidditch coach would glare reproachfully at him as if he was something dangerous.

Scorpius was fidgeting next to him too, and once again, he felt rather diminutive next to his tall friend. The brooms rested on the ground beneath their hands, waiting for that _one_command.

This was a moment of truth to see if he inherited Dad's avid talent for the sport, just as James had. Dad had loved Quidditch, and Merlin, Dad was _really_ good at it too. James already made seeker on the Gryffindor team – and for once, Al was glad he was in Slytherin. He wouldn't be able to compete with James. At least Slytherin was still on the look out for a seeker, but Al knew he couldn't apply until next year.

"Now, tell your broom '_up_'! You must have no hesitation or fear in your voice!"

A chorus of _up_'s filled the field, and Al followed aptly, calling his own broomstick to him. A few voices were squeaky and nervous, and Al looked across to the Gryffindors, guiltily pleased to see that Rose hadn't had any luck with her broom. His, however, had risen to his hand – Al felt pride spark in his chest.

He looked over at Scorp, who had his broom in his hands as well, they exchanged grins as the rest of their housemates groaned and cajoled their own brooms to come to them. Dominic and Cassandra Nott had their brooms, as well as Amelia Thade and Derek Luce, and some spattering of Gryffindors whom Al couldn't name.

Vince looked a smidgeon impressed with the students who had managed to get their brooms up.

"For those who've got it, sling your leg over the broom – not too low towards the twigs and not too far up. If you think you've got it, feel free to try hovering here and there."

Scorp looked surprised – Father had told him they wouldn't be doing anything close to actually _getting_ on a broomstick… but no problem, he had already been on one; Father had purchased a practice Sabra for him at the manor.

Al, however, was prepared. James had told him Vince put students on their brooms – and as much as he disliked the Quidditch professor, he couldn't help but be excited.

The pair mounted their brooms, hearing the smug chuckles of Derek Luce as he rode languidly overhead, and pushed off. They both rose higher than Luce immediately, eliciting yelps from the large boy as they soared past him.

Scorpius did a lazy figure 8 in the air, grinning at some of the awed expressions below. He loved the feeling of flying, even on a less than superior broom – true, the Dragonfly weren't as user friendly as a Sabra but it wasn't bad.

Al stared at his friend from a few feet away, hands clasping the broomstick so tightly his knuckles had turned white. It was a little scary doing this in front of at least fifty students; he had only ever flown at home and for short periods because James always hogged the broom at home. Even the toy one they had paled to this experience.

His ability came easily however as Al started to move through the air; a grin that was large enough to challenge Scorpius' appeared on his face as he swooped down and hovered above the heads of the remaining students, who looked up at him with despair. About half of them were on brooms now – some hung in the air with a look of pure terror on their faces.

Madame Vince looked relatively pleased, although that look was akin to a fat child who had encountered the largest serving of chocolate pie it had ever seen. She went around the remaining children, talking in hushed tones, ignoring the almost careless flying that was occurring overhead.

Scorpius did a small dive and appeared next to Al, breathless, hair tossed in whichever way, grinning as if galleons had started to rain from the sky. The smaller boy looked at him strangely – he hadn't seen Scorpius so _gleeful_ since… well, ever.

"What?"

Al blinked. "Huh?"

"You were staring – something wrong?" Scorp had taken a hand off the broom to rearrange his dearly departed hairstyle without avail. Al watched him with fascination, a little awed by his balance.

"N-nope?" Al tried to smile, but it came out as a watery half-grimace. "I take it you've got experience on a broom…"

Scorp shrugged noncommittally and stopped the futile attempt to fix his hair. "Dad wants me to be seeker, you see… I've practiced a little…"

Nodding numbly, Al tightened his grip on his broom. Of course Scorp would want to be a seeker too; he had heard of the numerous Quidditch matches in Hogwarts when the Slytherin seeker was Scorp's father – no doubt Scorp would want to carry on that tradition.

Suddenly something came swooping at them – Al heard Scorp yelp before he was pulled sharply downward as Scorp made them both duck. Dominic dived over them, cackling. Shielding his eyes from the sun, the small boy looked upwards at his fellow Slytherin who was hovering a good 50 ft above the ground, doing cork spirals in the air. His sister accompanied him a few seconds later after eliciting a high-pitched shriek from Rose.

Scorpius looked over at Al, who had the same slack-jawed expression that everyone wore – including Madame Vince. He felt a little envious of the awe – it was something he wanted; he wanted everyone, _Al_ to look at him like that.

He grunted and tugged on his friend's robe, prompting him to descend before they got in trouble. The Quidditch coach was starting to thaw from the shock of two first years flying to such an altitude and started to turn a blotchy red.

"Wow," said Al as he touched the ground again, although his voice lacked the excitement the word entailed, "the Nott twins are amazing…"

"Reckless." Replied Scorpius quietly – he knew Cassandra and Dominic had talent in Quidditch but the thought of anyone being so much better than him… chilled him to the bone.

They both watched in dry amusement as Vince started to yell as she brought the two down, her eyes bulging unattractively as spittle flew from her mouth. Finally, she stopped and looked around at her students – many of them still hovering in the air because they didn't know how to get down.

"Alright you brats, time's up… we'll continue this on Thursday." She frowned and ushered the ones who were on the ground off, every bit identical to a disgruntled bear. Al looked back with regret at Rosie who had not managed to get off her broom – he would stay behind but Professor Zabini would most likely skin him alive and use his bits for a poison if he didn't get to Potions.

"I hope they're our beaters," said Scorp as they went down the steps quickly, "the Nott twins, I mean."

"Yeah," agreed the smaller boy, "they fly better than Mews and Higgins."

There was a small pregnant pause as they came to the classroom door – the unspoken question dangled awkwardly between them like mistletoe.

"You want to be seeker too, don't you?" Al asked, voice soft.

Scorpius nodded, avoiding eye contact with his friend – the bright green made him nervous sometimes, like they could look right through him.

"So do I… but… I'd give you the spot if I got it."

Genuinely surprised, Scorpius blinked several times before sputtering, "W-what? Why? That's silly – if you want the spot so much, why would you give it to me?"

"Because I don't want to have a huge row over it," said Al matter-of-factly, "friends get split up over that, and my dad said friends are more important than anything."

"Um – " Scorp, speechless at the concept of sacrificing something so_crucial_ like being Seeker just so they could avoid a spat, couldn't muster anything other than mumbles.

Before he could conjure up an awkward 'thanks', the door was pulled open, Zabini giving them a nasty smile. "Plan on joining us anytime soon, gentlemen? I suppose hovering at the door will get you great marks in Potions as well."

Al and Scorp blanched and looked at their other housemates, who were all standing behind their cauldrons and sniggering.

They rushed to their own cauldron in third row – Al's eyes dropped to his shoes while Scorp's cheeks flushed a pale magenta. The professor's smile dropped immediately as he stalked back to the board and started to write the instructions of their newest potion on the blackboard.

"Thanks," whispered Scorp with a grateful smile as he picked up the extract of salamander, "you know – for that."

Al simply nodded in acknowledgement before the fear of persecution of a draught gone wrong dropped him into the silence.


	5. Year 1: Smile

**A/N:** Last one for first year, yay!

* * *

1st Year: 5/5  
**PROMPT:** _Smile_

Scorpius was grateful that he had packed ahead of time.

It was the last day of Hogwarts, and everyone in the dorm was scurrying around like packrats, picking up forgotten quills and pieces of clothing that littered around the room. Scorp was lying on his bed, hands laced behind his head, watching Al and the rest of their dorm mates pack furiously. He grinned and closed his eyes, knowing his trunk was under his bed, stored and ready to go.

Al looked up from cramming various textbooks in his trunk and glared at the tall boy. "You could help here."

Prying one hazel eye open, Scorp smirked and chuckled as if Al had made a joke. "I _told_ you yesterday that you should pack. But no, you and everyone decided to leave it until today. It's not my fault you're a procrastinator."

Dominic and Aidan were finally finished – they were struggling with their trunks, trying to get out the door with the oversized suitcases, muttering a chorus of goodbyes as they left. Scorp waved back and watched them with pity but knew he'd have to join them soon.

Something heavy landed on his chest and Scorpius sat up, feeling pain lace through his torso muscles. He looked down and saw his transfiguration textbook – the one that Al had assured him he'd put in Scorp's suitcase. The boy shoved the tome off his chest and glared at Al, who was smiling ruefully.

"Now you have something pack too."

Arching a fine brow, Scorp looked at Al. "You stole my book so I'd have to stay behind with you and pack?"

"Something like that."

"How very Slytherin of you," replied Scorp dryly, taking the book with him as he got off the bed and pulled his pack from underneath it.

Now Hadrian was stumbling out of the dorm room, along with Nathaniel Phork and Derek Luce. He and Albus were the only ones left in the dorm – everyone had gone up to drop off their trunks to be transported to the Express. Al had sat against the footboard of his bed, meanwhile waiting for Scorpius to finish while analyzing his friend lazily.

"You know, Scorp, you look weird when you smirk…"

The observation tumbled out of Al's mouth before he could stop it. He'd been thinking that exact thought for the past year; he noted how strange the smirk looked on Scorpius' thin face every time his friend smirked or sneered.

"What?" The Malfoy had finally pulled the edge of his suitcase over the book but paused as he looked at Al with a perplexed expression. "How do I look weird when I smirk?"

"Well, um, you know… like half of your face is smiling but the other doesn't… it looks really… _evil,_ well that's not the right word – it's just – well, it looks a bit weird. No offense." Al was no longer looking at him but was eyeing random objects around the room, fumbling for words. His ears were also turning a steady pink.

"My father looks alright when he does that," replied Scorpius thoughtfully, "and everyone says I look like him, so theoretically I should look fine when I smirk."

"You're not exactly like your dad…" Al's voice was quiet, almost fearful. "You're different."

Scorpius had never heard that before. Everyone said he looked exactly like his father, and that if his eyes weren't hazel, he might be a carbon copy of Draco Malfoy at his age.

"I'm different?" Scorpius parroted, musing on the idea. He always found pride when people said that, even when they didn't say it in the best of tones. "That's an interesting thought…"

Al nodded, his confidence rebuilding as Scorp didn't seem angry or insulted, "You look better when you smile, anyways. You should do that more often."

The Slytherin blinked, unable to tell if the statement was a compliment or not. "Well, Father said smiling should be reserved for something important."

Instead of thinking of a retort, Al just shrugged and pointed to their packs. "We should get these down now… we've been chatting for a while." Scorp agreed and they both hauled their luggage up the steps to the Great Hall, breathless as the caretaker, Sanders took the bags with a nasty glare at both of them, presumably for being the last to get their trunks up.

As they joined the rest of the Slytherin first years in the path to the Hogwarts Express, who were seeing how far Kate Abbott could walk before she noticed her robe was melting off, Al felt a small stab of sadness. The first year was over… he could finally go home, after writing letter after letter home saying his homesickness (while carefully avoiding James and using Rosie's Alfred); he was finally… going home. But the year had panned out all right after all, and he felt a modicum of pride in being a Slytherin. He knew regardless, Dad was proud of him too.

"Write to me over the summer, will you?" Scorp asked rather suddenly, "It's boring when all you've got around you are your family who think going outside is a curse…"

"Oh – only if you write back," replied Al with a grin. "Is that why you're so pale, then?"

Scorp nudged him, feigning indignance, attempting to bury a smile but couldn't help it. "My paleness is proof of good upbringing."

"Being a vampire is not good upbringing!"

About to reply with something scathing, Scorp was abruptly interrupted by a shriek as Kate Abbott threw off her dripping robe and watched it melt into a large black puddle. Dominic started to giggle, but then looked appalled with himself while Hadrian and Derek sniggering mutely, no sound escaping from their gaping mouths.

Scorp and Al exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.


	6. Year 2: Prejudice

**A/N:** 2nd year starts now!

* * *

2nd Year: 1/5  
**PROMPT**:_Prejudice_

"Mother, may we go to Diagon Alley on Tuesday?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his son, who had just entered the room looking rather hopeful. This sounded suspicious, and if the owl that swooped through Scorpius' bedroom gave him any inclination, this was probably also something to do with that Albus Potter.

Astoria exchanged glances with her husband before placing the small mantelpiece she had been inspecting down. "Why Tuesday, Scorpius?"

Trying to sound casual, the boy shrugged. "It just seemed convenient…"

"Is this about the Potter brat?" asked Draco with dispassion, and then summoned an issue of the Daily Prophet to his lap.

"He's not – " Scorpius started to protest, but willfully stopped the thought and bit his tongue – something he had learned from Father when he watched him talk with Grandfather. "Well, not really. I just thought it'd be a good date…"

"We'll go whenever your mother decides," said Draco curtly, eyes no longer on Scorpius. "I've accepted your friendship with that boy, but it does not mean we'll adjust our schedule so you can meet him. No doubt you see him a good percentage of the year, anyways."

Knowing that tone was an immediate dismissal, Scorpius bowed his head and nodded. "Yes, Father."

The dark haired woman frowned before seating herself opposite her husband, delicate brows furrowed in concern. "I'm concerned for him, Draco."

Draco's eyes flickered to her face before returning to the Prophet, "Why?"

"I found this in his room."

Astoria placed a small, moving figurine of Harry Potter on a broom, chasing after a snitch on the table with a grimace.

Her husband's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he looked at the figure's tiny hand stretch towards the ball. He put down the paper before sputtering, "A-are you serious? _That_?"

Nodding grimly, Astoria leaned back in the chair and looked at Draco expectantly. "What are you going to do?"

His fingers clasped the model and Draco looked it over, bitterness rushing into his system. The pale man finally threw the plastic figurine into the fire and frowned, watching the flames lick black trails against the plastic.

"Nothing. He can have his Harry Potter fetish if he wants, but he'll soon realize that Potter is nothing similar to what the media depicts him as."

--

The alley was bustling, noise and lights erupting from every shop and stall. Al walked behind James, who was asking their dad for everything in sight, which caused Lily to parrot her brother's requests. Al was quiet, clutching the list of items he needed in his fist tightly. It was his second year now, which meant new textbooks, a renewal of potion ingredients and general tagging behind his family as they strolled through Diagon Alley, languidly shopping. Al sighed; he was bored – Scorp had said he hadn't been able to convince his parents after all – and it made the day horribly bleary.

He also knew the reason why they hadn't bought anything - they were really waiting for the Weasleys to pop up.

And so they did; Al spotted Hugo and Rosie first, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione walking leisurely behind them.

"Al, come to the Owl Emporium with me?" Rose asked breathlessly, excitement dancing in her blue eyes as she approached him, "I need to get some stuff for Alfred; he's been doing a lot of flying lately – I figured I'd buy him some treats."

"Sure," he replied, grinning in reminder of Scorp's letter in relation to owls. "I thought he was still ill? What have you been making him do?"

"Oh, he's fine now, it's just some things," The girl smiled and turned slightly pink before grabbing Al's hand, "let's go! Dad gave me some pocket change already, I think I've got enough sickles for a bag or two."

After telling Harry and Ginny where they were headed, Rose and Al crossed the street and entered the dark emporium. Al wrinkled his nose immediately, the stench of owl feces and general animal musk made him feel a little nauseous.

As Al looked around the dingy room, he heard a familiar, drawling voice.

" – it's a simple question, really. Is there or is there not a supplementary owl food that is better than the Werth's mixture?"

"I – I really don't know sir, I'd have to – "

"Your name _is_ Helena Eeylop, correct? I would've thought your father taught you something about the shop before _dumping_ you here so unceremoniously…"

Al blinked, his hand slipping out of Rose's as he proceeded near the source of the voice. Turning around the stack of empty cages, he caught the view of a tall blond boy in black robes, brows knit in disdain. He was almost towering over a plump, short woman with golden pigtails who looked mortified to be put in such a position. She squeaked and disappeared into the back room, presumably to have a word with her father.

"Scorp?"

The boy turned, hazel eyes catching Al's form in the darkness.

"Al?"

"What are you doing here? I thought you said you couldn't – "

Scorpius tucked a piece of hair behind his ears, looking embarrassed. "Father changed his mind for some reason… But he did it this morning so I sent an owl right after he said yes – your family probably left before Hector got there though…"

Al cocked his head, looking his friend over. It seemed Scorp had actually grown_taller_ over the summer, his blond hair gaining some length along his neck. Though, besides that, nothing else had changed.

"Hmm, you've grown," remarked Scorp, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips, "though you're still tiny…"

"I'm normal for 12," replied Al with a pout, glaring at his friend, "you look like a 5th year, though. _That_'s not normal."

Snickering, Scorp shrugged casually as Helena reappeared, clutching a small, multicolored bag with an owl decal on it.

"T-this would be the only other kind we have, Mr. Malfoy…" The woman spoke the surname shakily, and Scorpius' eyes narrowed at her unintentional emphasization. "I-it's Nero formula… My father said it would be best if you allowed your owl to hunt on its own…"

"I'll take three bags of it, delivered to the manor." He replied coolly, ignoring the latter part of her advice, "My father will be in to pay for it. Good day, Miss Eeylops."

Al shivered at his friend's tone; it was cold and brittle and sounded much too similar to Draco Malfoy… he didn't like it, not one bit.

Rose had appeared, searching for her cousin whom she had lost moments later, and she found Al conversing rather deftly with fellow Slytherin, Scorpius Malfoy. She gaped at them for several moments; how surreal was it that a Potter and a Malfoy were talking on friendly terms, not to mention they looked spookily similar to their fathers.

"A-al?" She managed to mumble hoarsely, wondering why her voice was sounded like it had shards of glass threaded in it, "Um, I've picked up the stuff I need… I'm just going to head back now. Shall I tell Aunt Gins that you're here?" Rose was about to ask 'with him?' but decided against it; the Malfoy boy looked nasty.

Both of the boys turned to her and Rose felt the pale boy look her over – it made her feel nervous and strangely, a little self-conscious.

"Um, yeah, that'd be great, but I'm gonna head over to – where are we going?"

"Flourish and Blotts," quipped Scorp, looking thoughtful, "Mother should have left by now. If not, we can always sneak up the stairs – there's this Quidditch techniques that I saw before…"

"Alright," Rose smiled weakly before going up to the counter and paying 4 sickles and 6 knuts for her two bags of treats. Her cousin and the Malfoy boy were gone already, no doubt exchanging ideas of how to sneak into the bookshop without being detected. She felt her stomach clutch. Dad had warned her last year… and she had heard the whispers about how the Malfoy name was marred with being two-time traitors from the inter-house gossip. She was only 12, but she got the gist of it – Malfoys were not to be trusted.

--

Al and Scorp entered the busy shop, managing squeezing past several pudgy witches pouring over the new 'Witch Weekly' issue. Scorp found, to his dismay, that his mother had not left. Not even close.

Astoria had picked up a Witch Weekly issue and was reading it on one of the oversized seats, skimming through the pages casually, while his father was…

Glaring at Harry Potter.

The boy's heart seized at the sight of the man; it was _Harry Potter_ in flesh and blood, not on a newspaper or magazine cover, not a figurine or poster… Al grinned, yelling "Dad!" and promptly ran towards his dad, grateful to have located him. Scorpius watched him go with envy, wishing one, that he could be so close with Father and second, guiltily wishing that _his_ father were Harry Potter.

Scorpius frowned and attempted to blend in with the crowd, inching along the wall to where Draco was standing. He didn't want Harry Potter to see him – not like this – not with Father who hated him…

"Scorp?"

The voice piped up and Scorpius, for once, profusely wished it had not. A few feet away from Father (who was basically safe base) and Al had called him out in front of his own parents.

Draco had noticed the call too and he lifted his head to look for his son, only to make eye contact with the blazing green irises of Harry Potter. They both glared at each other with collective dislike; Draco sneered and found Scorpius' form before silently beckoning him over.

The rest of the shop had gone deathly silent – Al wished someone would say something. His own call for his friend hung in the air awkwardly – he swore he could hear the sound echo in the far corners of Flourish & Blotts.

"Malfoy." Said Harry, tone a devoid of emotion.

"Potter." Draco spat the name back, his voice chockfull of venom. Scorp cringed and felt his face heat up, fervently wishing the earth would swallow him whole.

The ginger-haired woman next to Harry Potter – who Scorp knew was Ginevra Potter – looked between the two men with an anxious look on her face. James glared at him – Scorp felt the heat of the look but did not reply, while Lily looked genuinely confused at the overbearing silence, but did not speak. The tension was palpable.

"Well," drawled Draco finally, tearing his eyes away from his former arch-rival and placing a hand on his son's shoulder, "We'll be leaving now, won't we Scorpius?"

The tall boy nodded glumly, casting a quick glance at Al, who mouthed 'I'm sorry' silently. His father's fingers dug into his shoulder and Scorp had trouble not yelping; it stung.

Astoria folded up her magazine, shooting the Potter family a particularly scathing look before exiting with her family.

"You will not be writing to him anymore," hissed Draco in Scorpius' ear, "you will have the majority of the year to infect yourself with that cesspool that calls themselves wizards. _I_will be taking your owl if I see it fly out your window, understood?"

Again, Scorpius nodded. What else could he do?


	7. Year 2: Don't Stay

**A/N: **Long ficlet is looooooooooooong. Longest chapter yet, and introduces some antagonism. (Finally!) Hope you guys enjoy. I'm getting obsessed with the Lord of the Flies (shut up) fandom these days, geez...

* * *

2nd Year: 2/5

**PROMPT:** _Don't Stay_

Today was Quidditch tryouts.

Al was excited – he hadn't been able to stop fidgeting in Herbology, and in the process, had accidentally acquired several bites from tending the Chinese Chomping Cabbage. He knew Scorp was probably excited too, but the taller boy didn't seem to lose much focus over it – instead, he was talking to a Ravenclaw girl named Ine something on the opposite end. Al wrinkled his nose – Professor Longbottom usually liked to keep him away from Scorp, ever since that accident with the Scorching Shrubbery and that Goldstein boy…

Envious and about to fail the lesson, Al got back to work on his head of cabbage, which was grimacing fiercely at him. Turning around the piece, he started to strip the cover leaves from its roots, keeping his fingers away from the grouchy vegetable.

Al and Scorp never discussed that day in Diagon Alley – Al had enough tact not to speak of it too much and Scorp never brought it up. He was silently glad that it seemed no one in Flourish & Blotts was in Slytherin to have witnessed the mess. Feeling like it was too intrusive to ask, Al kept his mouth shut on the topic of Draco Malfoy, even when it was apparent his friend's father had forbade him to send further letters to Al.

Finishing his last cabbage just as the class ended, Al pulled his gloves off and was about to meet Scorp at the door before a hand clamped gently on his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Al, could we talk?"

It was Professor Longbottom – Al flushed with embarrassment. "Uncle Neville! Is this about today? I-I'm sorry, I was just nervous for the tryouts… I promise I won't – "

" – No, it isn't." Interrupted the professor with a gracious smile, "I just wanted to ask… are you alright? All well in your house?"

Al's blush darkened. "I'm not in first year anymore Uncle Neville, I'm fine… I don't know why you or Uncle Ron think the Slytherins are going to gang up on me, they've been fine." He had a sneaking suspicion they were more concerned that he hung out with 'that Malfoy boy' than anything else.

Neville nodded absentmindedly and released him. "Just as long as you're fine. I'd get some food before the tryouts if I were you."

Without another word, Al ran out of the greenhouses, mind whirling with the thought of tryouts. He had to go get the Hummingbird Dad had gotten for him; it was supposedly an expensive, state of the art broom that Dad hadn't let James touch. That fact made Al grin.

The professor's advice seemed like a good idea at the moment though – no doubt every student in Slytherin would already have their broomstick with them at the table, and Al was not about to add his piece of inconvenience to it. Clambering into the Great Hall, someone clapped a hand on his back, making Al stumble forward.

"Al! You better get seeker – then we can face off against each other in the matches!" James grinned, and Al knew from his tone that James really didn't think he was much competition at all. He also knew that James had been rather bitter for the past two weeks, ever since Dad had gotten him a new broom and all James had was the older Stratus model.

The smaller boy shrugged his brother's hand off without a word, ignoring the occasional jeer that arose from the Gryffindor table – he'd gotten used to them, not to say that they didn't sting.

Scorp managed to mumble something that sounded like 'Where did you go?' with a mouth full of food, then looked appalled at his own manners. He swallowed and stared pointedly at his friend.

"Where'd you go?"

"Professor Longbottom had another talk with me," replied Al dully and sat down to eat, "They all think Slytherin is some sort of hemorrhoid…"

Dominic snorted from across the table and chucked a grape at Al's forehead. "All Gryffindors think that, Potter, it's no different from how we think of them."

"Hey Dom, you and Sandra are trying out for beaters, right?"

"Mmmh," grunted the boy and speared a strawberry, "Dad wants us as beaters, 'cause that was his position and all. You know what's scary? She's stronger than me."

Scorp hid his snigger behind his fork and continued to eat. Al just grinned and tried to digest his food, stomach churning at the thought of playing Quidditch in front of the entire school…

He hadn't forgotten the promise he had made to Scorpius last year too – the one where he had said if he became seeker, he'd hand the spot over to Scorp. Now… there was definite temptation to go back on that decision. There was no better position, was there?

Everyone finished lunch quickly and almost half of table filed outside for the tryouts or to their dorms to grab their broom. Al descended the stone steps with Scorp and a bunch of other students, bursting into their rooms and rustling through their trunks.

There was a chorus of gasps and 'wow' that brought Al's attention to a cluster of boys crowding around Scorpius' bed.

His eyes widened at the sight of what his friend was holding.

"Blimey, a Blaze?" sputtered Hadrian, practically green with envy, "they're not even _out_ yet!"

Scorp laughed – it was a real one, not cold or mocking like Al sometimes heard – and brandished the polished handle towards Hadrian. "You look jealous, Had."

The dark haired boy pouted, "Of course I am! I've only got a Stratus, c'mon, that's not fair…"

As everyone began leaving the dormitories to the Quidditch field, Al attempted to coax the name of Scorp's mysterious benefactor from him, but the boy kept his mouth shut and simply looked amused at Al's attempts.

Entering the pitch, many students noticed Professor Zabini sitting in the stands with Madame Vice – Al, for one, found their eyes extremely unnerving. The captain, Flint, glared at the approaching students, lip curled in a particularly disdained expression.

"Listen! We're not looking for all positions. The only spots open are seeker, one chaser and both beaters and we don't _need_ to fill them, understand? Now, Seymour will take those who want to apply for chaser… Mews for beaters and I'll take for seeker."

Scorpius chewed his lip in habit – this didn't look good. The Notts would certainly get the beaters; they flew better than the current beaters and almost everyone else who wanted the position. He exchanged glances with Al, feeling guilt bubble in his stomach at the hope his friend would keep his word – if he needed it. Which he wouldn't, because Scorp had been on a broom all summer, learning positions and dives and being coached by father who seemed to make it his life's work to see Scorpius become seeker on the Slytherin team.

Father had even allowed him a few glances at his Pensieve, to see how Harry potter flew

He could do this.

They both filed after Flint; Scorp glanced back at the others – there was a few fifth year girls, Septia Icker from third year (she gave him strange glances in the hallways – he was not impressed) with her brother in sixth, three fourth years, him, Al and Luce in front.

Flint tossed a golden ball in the air – it had no wings, Scorp noted – which hovered above his open palm.

"Fetch," he said quietly with a sneer – Scorp blinked and the tiny sphere had disappeared. Derek looked stunned but scrambled onto his broom and flew off.

A few seconds passed before Flint sighed in disgust. "Dropped," he muttered darkly before raising a hand; the orb returning to his fingers a moment later. Luce returned breathless, looking flushed and angry, mumbling 'I never got a chance' darkly. Al had gotten on his Hummingbird already – he wouldn't be caught off guard like Derek.

The moment the fake-Snitch disappeared from the captain's fingers, Al was gone. Flint rose one dark brow, duly impressed with one twitch of his mouth. "Caught."

The tall 7th year waited for a few seconds before the sphere was returned to him. He grimaced at it – it was covered in spittle - as Al came back, looking slightly green.

"What the hell happened?" He barked, withdrawing a long wand from his robes and cleaning the ball.

Al's eyes dropped to his feet as he clambered off the broom. "I-I was about to catch it with my hands and then it flew into my mouth."

Scorpius choked and coughed, trying not to laugh. He recovered in time to watch Al scowl at him. He grinned back and got on his broom, relishing in Flint's inaudible marvel of his superior Blaze. Nevertheless, the snitch disappeared and Scorp flew after it.

Surprisingly, it was harder to catch than the fake snitch Father had trained him with. It was smaller than a normal one and hard to see in the midst of all the other people on the pitch. A flash of gold appeared a few feet away from him and Scorp lunged, only to have the orb flit past his eye, as if mocking him for the effort.

Gritting his teeth, the boy turned around and saw the golden ball dropping towards the ground. He sped towards it, catching the smooth sphere in his fingers. Scorp exhaled as the snitch escaped from his grasp and sped back towards the small dot that was Flint.

As Scorpius flew back, he saw the captain had ascended the steps to converse with Vice and Zabini; goosebumps rose on his skin as he saw his head of house nod, and then shake his head. The second chaser on the team, an attractive 4th year named Diana Templer was now in charge of seeing over the remaining seekers. It was rumored that she and Victoire Weasley were inter-house rivals. If it were true, it would certainly explain the dirty glares they threw each other in the corridors.

Al was sitting on the bench, broom underneath his feet and looking rather thoughtful. "Hey Scorp. Is that all we have to do?"

Scorpius shrugged and put his prized Blaze underneath the bench as well. "They're going for speed, I think. It does seem rather anticlimactic though." They watched Septia return and Flint giving a nod – they both presumed she had gotten the snitch – but snickered as she stumbled and fell to the ground as soon as she got off her broom.

Across the field, the Nott twins were finally up. They performed a series of flying exercises flawlessly, and Cassandra pummeled a fake bludger viciously to the ground after her brother passed it to her.

"Dom wasn't kidding," said Scorp dryly while Al laughed next to him. "She's a little scary."

--

Several days after the tryouts, everyone was waiting precariously for the results. Cassandra and Dominic had gotten both beater spots automatically, and after a particularly verbose row on the Slytherin table, the keeper, Carter, had been sacked as well.

The other houses gossiped about how the Slytherin team was coming apart at the seams. Indeed, it appeared so with only two of the original members of the team still on it.

Finally, Flint had announced he would be posting up the list after dinner. He seemed rather disgruntled when asked about the spots and refused to talk about them, redirecting many of the inquisitive Slytherins to Diana.

However even with the sheer amount of trepidation, dinner came and went and eventually, and a good amount of Slytherins crowded into the common room to look over the small piece of parchment that Flint had spellotaped to the wall.

"Hey look, that Potter kid actually got on!" The observation was then jeered and laughed at by some of the senior students; it seemed the little second year's small form had finally won him something.

It also made Scorp's blood run cold. No, no, it couldn't be…

In Flint's chicken scratch was… _Seeker: Albus Potter_.

Behind him, Al stiffened. He hadn't imagined he would actually _get_ the position… Seeker… and now he had to give it up? He looked up at Scorp, who was equally frozen but much, _much_ more devastated looking.

Guilt made his head swim. "S-scorp? I'm gonna go… talk to Flint… alright?"

He hoped fervently that Scorp would say he didn't have to, but only silence met his words. Without skipping a beat, Al exited the common room in a sprint to find the Quidditch captain.

Scorp frowned and reined in his shock. Someone patted his back sympathetically but he snarled, shrugging them off and stalked off to his bed. Unshed tears made his sight blurry as he pulled the dark drapery around him, and cast a quick '_Mufliato_' to make sure no one heard him.

Of_course_ Al would become seeker. His dad was famous for being one of the greatest seekers in Hogwarts history, as well as one of the youngest, and his mum was a professional Holyhead Harpie. All the training in the whole bloody world wouldn't equal to the natural talent Al had. Also, he didn't want to become seeker just because Al handed him the position, because he wouldn't have earned it. But he still wanted it, regardless.

He cried for a while. He hated himself for doing it but at least he didn't whine or whimper when the tears rolled down his cheeks. It was so _weak_ and Father would never cry - ever. He'd have to clean up before coming out, otherwise the others might notice, and he couldn't afford that. Finally the tears stopped and he inhaled a few times, trying to calm down enough to stop hiccupping.

After a few deep breathes, Scorp heard the door open and Al's voice, low and hushed, whisper to his other suitemates. "Where's Scorp?"

A moment of silence followed; footsteps pattered up to his bed. Scorpius allowed himself to get slightly hopeful – if Al gave him the position… he could still make Father proud, right?

A sliver of light appeared as Al opened the drapes and slipped onto his bed. Scorp muttered another muffling spell while Al lit his wand, looking disparaged. Al could see the puffy bags underneath his friend's eyes, no matter how he tried to conceal them. He'd been crying, and it didn't make him feel much better about what he was going to say.

"U-um I talked to the Captain… I-I'm sorry Scorp – " Al started to stutter and swallowed anxiously, " – but he says he can't switch us… I'm really, _really_sorry!" He finished quickly, panic making his voice high pitched.

"Didn't he tell you why he couldn't switch us?"

"N-no…"

Scorpius closed his eyes and found a smidgeon of anger resting there. No, Al wasn't sorry. He wasn't sorry at all, he just wanted that position for himself because his father was a seeker and this was all just a poorly orchestrated lie. He probably didn't even see Flint.

"You know," he said coolly, opening his hazel eyes, "if you wanted to be seeker so badly, you could've just told me. The promise was a silly thing you said when we were 11. You don't have to _lie_, Potter, that's even more pathetic."

Al's expression had gone from forlorn to confused, wincing at the use of his surname. "L-lie? I'm not lying… Scorp I know you're upset right now but I'm not lying about seeing Flint, I really – "

"Get out," said Scorp, ice glinting back where irises should be, "and don't talk to me until you want to tell me the truth."

The boy swallowed, looking immensely hurt but slipped out of the four-poster bed without another word.

Feeling a gigantic headache coming on, Scorpius promptly rummaged through his trunk for his quill and some parchment so he could send a letter to Father before everyone else told him.

Upon finishing it, Scorpius stumbled out of the dorm, feeling the looks people gave him as he crossed the school to the Owlery. Locating Hector, he attached the piece to his owl and ushered him along, his head starting to throb painfully as if it was a premonition to come.

--

They hadn't talked for _days_. Everyone had noticed that the younger Potter and Malfoy had some sort of spat; they no longer talked or sat remotely close at the Slytherin table or even made eye contact. Dominic had been disgusted with whatever happened and stopped being around both of them, as well as the majority of the Slytherins who abhorred such fruitless drama.

Scorpius refused to talk to anyone who asked him about what had happened. Everyone suspected he was bitter and jealous that Al had gotten the coveted seeker position, which was, for the most part, correct. And he hated that it was. It really did not make his name look any better, but he reasoned that he was a twelve year old boy and could afford to throw a few tantrums every now and then, heaven forbid he never did when he was a child.

Al seemed to have withdrawn to hanging out with his brother and Rose, reduced to quiet whispers and mumbles whenever they had to be cordially polite to each other.

Scorpius was tired, quite honestly, of all the hostile glances he got from all the houses – because he hurt _Harry Potter_'s son – particularly from James Potter and the various Weasleys that littered the hallways. Victoire Weasley had actually threatened him – and he was at least as tall as her – on his way to History of Magic.

"You 'ave done a very horrible thing to my cousin," she said, holding up a delicate arm, "and you will stay very very far avay from him, understood?"

Not even bothering to reply, Scorpius had brushed past her to class. Really? Victoire probably couldn't even lift a stone – although he had seen her hexes, which were vicious but manageable. James however was another case altogether; Scorp took his threats seriously and tried to avoid lanky third year.

Now it was Friday morning, and the owls were streaming in (because there were no Floomail terminals at Hogwarts), dropping various parcels and letters from doting parents and guardians. Scorp stopped eating his breakfast, squinting in the light. He recognized the telltale white and gray markings of his own owl, Hector and his heart dropped, knowing it was a responding letter from his father. At least, it should be. No one else wrote to him.

The bird dropped the letter onto his uneaten toast and Scorpius picked it up with a sense of dread. It was from his father, the Malfoy wax seal dusting the envelope with the scent of sandalwood and smoke. He broke it carefully and slipped the manila parchment out, reading from under the table.

_Scorpius,_

_Although I am glad you share my view on the Potters, I believe it may be unfounded. I have been talking with your Head of House, Professor Zabini who had a hand in the casting of the Quidditch positions. Potter indeed approached Flint with notion to _'give you the position of seeker'_ but I believe Flint refused. _

_You were not cast because, quote Zabini, despite the fact you have good reflexes and fly with skill, your height hinders you from playing Seeker effectively, and that Potter is smaller and more suitable for the position. _

_He, however, offers you the position of Keeper of the Slytherin team because I believe Flint has had a falling out with the previous player. If you decide to act upon this offer, please consult the Professor._

_I am not disappointed in you Scorpius, because I can no more blame you than I can blame myself or your mother for giving you such genes. It is only unfortunate, and it is not of real importance to me, that Albus Potter is weaker and lighter than you._

_You may keep the Blaze for further practice if you so wish._

_Your Father,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Scorpius blinked once. And then again. Then once more for good measure. It took a while to sink in.

Finally he felt his stomach clench – oh Merlin, he had been wrong all along, hadn't he? He reread the letter again before he stole a glance down the table at Al, who was picking his food glumly.

Could he apologize? After all this and him being a jealous prat, would Al forgive him? He swallowed nervously, acquiescing a piece of toast to Hector. Scorpius was never very good at apologies; Father had said to refrain from apologizing unless it was absolutely necessary. Watching Al mumble something dully and leave the table, Scorpius took another bite, vowing to attempt to talk to Al after class.

--

After Transfiguration, Scorpius cornered Al in a nook where a suit of armor may have been long ago. He felt the heat radiate off his face and couldn't remember the last time he had been this embarrassed.

The smaller boy looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and fear, obviously perplexed by why Scorp had trapped him in an alcove and blushing madly. His mouth was twisted oddly, as if trying to decide between frowning and gaping.

"Al, I – I'm sorry. For the past few days. For um, everything." The boy gulped, trying to look remorseful, "I've been a prat for thinking you would lie to me and I was just… really jealous. I'm really, _really_ sorry. I'm sorry for – for calling you a liar and – and everything. Yeah."

Al had stared at him for a few moments (Scorp's face flushed, and he counted the seconds – Merlin, why did it seem to last so long?) before he finally snorted and laughed out loud, clutching his stomach in what appeared to be deftly controlled amusement.

"I accept your apology – aha – Scorp, and yes – you've been a prat. A really _huge_ one. I think this even takes the cake on that one time Uncle Ron – "

"Al." Although relieved, Scorp raised a thin brow at his friend's mirth because he really didn't understand the butt of the joke.

The boy grinned and brightened. "Right, sorry. Anyways… I had to stop myself from laughing when you were speaking – your face was _so_ red…"

Blushing again, Scorp scowled, "Shut up! I had to swallow my pride there!"

"Yeah yeah…"


	8. Year 2: Red

**A/N:** I have technically given up t3h fanfiction, but I'm just posting the remaining chapters I've already written beforehand. :)

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2nd Year: 3/5

**PROMPT:** _Red_

_The first compilation of magical creatures was completed by Sir Walter Scott (often called the Mad Scot by his muggle friends) on the origins of gnomes, kobolds, goblins and boggarts._

"Scorp?"

_Although many articles are known to be incorrect (example being that Goblins were said to be the king of Gnomes) but provides an accurate timeline._

"Scorp?"

With a ragged sigh, the blond boy slammed the book shut. He looked up expectantly at Al (who seemed to have brought along his Weasley cousin) and scowled.

"You know," he drawled, exasperation evident, "I figured if you just ignored someone long enough, they'd go away…"

Al grinned sheepishly before pointing a thumb at the girl by his side. "Rose says she needs help with potions 'cause Prof Zabini hates her. D'you want to give her a hand?"

The redhead looked scandalized. "What! Professors aren't supposed to be discriminatory. I'm not bad at it, I was just wondering if he had any tips…"

Scorpius' gaze turned to Rose, who had turned a lovely shade to match her hair. He chuckled and shoved the large History textbook towards the end of the table. "He's right, you know. Professor Zabini does hate you."

Rose gasped. "B-but is that why – "

"I doubt he's docking marks. You're just a Weasley," reassured the tall boy with another sigh.

"Speaking of that, I thought I was the big bad Malfoy that your dad told you to stay away from?"

The Gryffindor girl pursed her lips, swallowing what seemed to be an afterthought. "I-if Al thinks you're alright, then I guess I can…"

"So you can what? Swallow your Gryffindor pride and ask me for help? Merlin, I feel so honored." Scorp's tone had grown steadily cooler, and it made Al nervous.

Al turned to his friend. "Scorp," he whispered, trying not to sound disapproving. "She's not – "

"Fine, fine," relented the Slytherin with a wave of his hand, although the tension did not dispel instantly. "What do you need to know?"

Taking the seat next to Scorp by the table, Al looked up at his cousin expectantly and grinned when the girl finally folded. Rose made a small flustered sound before sitting down opposite Scorpius. Rose would always cede to gaining more knowledge, even if it meant getting it from people her father didn't approve of.

"Well… I know that the Professor's making us use a lot of that essence of salamander this year. It's almost like a staple, but I don't know how to measure it! I mean, you're supposed to cut it up right? But everyone's is already in fine powder and it burns to touch it for too long." Rose bit her lip, looking distressed, "it's not even supposed to be a second year ingredient! My mum said they didn't make them use the essence at all."

Al rolled his eyes. "I'm betting Zabini's a lot harder than Professor Snape was. 'Sides, potions wasn't exactly priority number one back then…"

Frowning slightly, Scorp ignored his friend (although he was most likely right). "You're supposed to have bought the powdered kind, I think. How in Merlin's name did you get solid essence of salamander? It's called an essence for a reason. Anyways, you'll need a medicine bowl to crush it… shouldn't be too hard to find."

Al peered curiously at Scorp. "Don't you have one?"

A flicker of annoyance flashed across the boy's face before Scorpius muttered a small, "Yes."

"Then lend it to her! C'mon Scorp, she's not going to break it…"

"She can get one from Zabini… he's the potion professor."

Rose narrowed her eyes minutely – but enough that Scorpius saw it – and turned on her heels to exit the library. "I'll go ask him then."

As she left, Al turned to Scorp with a sigh. "You couldn't try being nice to her?"

"She thinks she's better than me," Scorpius deadpanned, thumbing through another textbook, "it's a little annoying."

Al snorted. "Isn't it just the other way around then?"

"She thinks she's smarter than me, comes from a better family, in a better House," replied the blond boy sullenly, finding he couldn't concentrate on Goblin Wars when Al was talking, "and frankly, she's not."

"Well she comes from my family."

Oh bloody Merlin, Al was glaring at him… Scorpius swallowed and closed his text. "I'll try, alright? I just… we'd butt heads, that's all."

"As long as you try… and stop studying – it's only History of Magic! As if Binns ever gives us tests anyways… Besides, we've got lunch now. I'm starving!"

--

On the next Tuesday after a particularly dull History of Magic class (with an equally dull but difficult – and unexpected – test on Goblin conflicts and wars which Scorp had no doubt been studying that day in the Libraries), Al witnessed a very strange exchange in the hallways.

Rose who was coming down the stairs, had smiled at Scorp! Not at him, he was sure of it, because he knew how Rose smiled at him. This however, was meant to be discrete – her mouth turned up just slightly at the edges – and she turned away to rush to her next class, chattering away with a dark haired girl.

He glanced up at his friend whose lips had not changed at all, but did looked considerably pleased with himself. Al pondered on the oddness of the situation but was ushered along to Transfiguration by Derek who seemed disgruntled that he had perhaps failed another quiz.

--

Later in the day, Al knew something was definitely up. Rose had waved at them (not just him because it lasted much longer) and Scorp had actually waved back! It wasn't as though he was worried but he didn't like being left out of the loop, and this was simply outrageous. He wasn't the disgruntled parent that would separate them – he had been the peacemaker!

Still, he didn't remark on it. They hadn't actually talked to each other so he didn't want to aggravate the situation… just let it play out. Patience was a virtue, right?

They descended the stairs to another dreaded potions class and passed the Gryffindors who had just finished (Al envied them greatly) when from the corner of his eye, he saw Rose and Scorp (it had to be Scorp – the boy was behind him) exchange something white and round looking.

He spun around, looked stunned. Scorpius grunted as Al bumped him and stopped the class on the steps in their tracks.

"You!" he hissed at Scorpius, who was hastily shoving the object into his bag, "You lent it to her after all!"

The boy glared and pointed downwards to remind him they had a class to get to and Al was holding everyone up, but mumbled quietly, "It's just a medicine bowl."

"Why didn't you tell me - " Al whispered while stumbling down the last step and accidentally pushed Hadrian into Cassandra. Both glared at him and Al was forced to smile weakly.

Scorpius rolled his eyes but didn't reply.

"Did you think I'd think you were less er, Slytherin if you became friends with her? Merlin Scorp – "

"It was just a medicine bowl! Okay, she's… not that bad, alright? Now shut up before we get in trouble." Scorp didn't look particularly embarrassed as Al expected, but his eyes were darting wildly towards the Potions door – just in case it opened.

"Aww," tutted Al with a grin as he followed Scorpius' nervous glances, "is the big bad Malfoy scared of the Potions professor?"

Scorpius gritted his teeth. "Yes, I am. And frankly, you should be too."

"I do believe Potters were born with a sense of irrationality," said a cold voice as the door opened, revealing the tall, dark skinned man. Zabini regarded his students with an almost palpable disdain as they filed through the door.

Al's eyes widened and he gulped audibly, making Scorpius snicker as they got to their cauldron.

"Scared now?"


	9. Year 2: Affection

**A/N:** No update in a long time, sorry! Still posting chapters I've written beforehand. I haven't written in months though, and I'm not sure how far it'll go. :( I'm pretty rusty.

Hope you guys enjoy it, regardless!

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2nd Year: 4/5

**PROMPT:** Affection

The dungeons were cold.

Al thought this glumly, bundled up with his blanket and various Weasley sweaters, trying to finish their Defence Against the Dark Arts essay on the Patronus Charm. Flipping through 'Popular Spells of the 21st Century', he sneezed as Scorpius entered the dorm room.

Before he could think up of a feeble greeting as the others in the dorm had done, the taller boy had thrown an amused glance at Al's apparel.

"It looks like someone ate something particularly nasty and threw up all over your sweater," he mused with a grin. "How _does_ one achieve that wonderful vomit green color?"

Al scowled when he heard various snickers and mumbled, "My mum made it for me," before returning to his books. Scorpius looked considerably impressed that Al had actually taken some initiative to study but then again, he was reminded that DADA was Harry Potter's best subject and he supposed Al couldn't fail it.

"Who's going back for hols?" asked the boy as he flopped onto his own sheets. A few grunts met the question and Scorpius cracked his knuckles. "Guess the whole place is cleaned out, huh?"

Al looked over his textbook strangely. "Are you not going back, Scorp?"

"My parents are picking me up early," Scorpius replied shortly and started to rummage for his own textbook, despite having finished the essay a few days ago. "Mother's doing some extensive renovations…or something silly like that. It's the first time I've seen Father looking like he was going to cry." He grimaced and wrinkled his thin nose.

Hadrian snorted and peered out from his own set of drapes. "What, Malfoy crying? Does your mum wear the pants in the relationship or something?"

"It's costing a pretty galleon," drawled the blond with a severe smile, voice rising slightly in what Al presumed to be an imitation of his mother, " - colour scheme is very important to us."

"Yeah, like modifying the colour of your bleeding mansion is going to do much," replied Derek, voice muffled from the quill he was sucking on.

Dom chuckled and shrugged, tossing his textbook to the floor. "Well I don't know, lilac stones sound nice don't they?"

Grinning, Al returned to his book. He always found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate when his dormmates were talking, simply because all of them had equally amusing commentary. They were possibly the most accepting of Slytherins; the seniors and prefects tended to look upon him and Scorp with distaste. Al assumed it was just stupid stories being passed down by stupid parents, which in retrospect, was most likely correct.

Al thought back to that one terse moment in Flourish & Blotts and he frowned, biting his bottom lip. That fair, dark-haired woman with the intense golden eyes who had sneered nastily at them when leaving, Al thought, was possibly scarier than Malfoy Senior himself. A little bit like mum but much more… dangerous?

For some reason, that didn't seem like the right word.

--

As Al pulled his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express, he felt notably heavier. It was an awkward feeling – he had almost expected to feel better – or at least lighter - without Scorp there.

Instead, there was a strangeness without the taller boy to talk to, but it wasn't… unpleasant? It wasn't like he missed him or anything silly like that; it was just the weird feeling of not having something you'd gotten used to.

Besides, he'd only been gone for… two days? And Al was going home, anyways. Home to Mum and Dad, chatty Lily, Teddy and Aunt Drom if she decides to visit… he had missed that.

Chewing his lip again, Al smiled weakly as James waved him up to their compartment. He was too comfortable with where he was, that was all. Even sitting with James and Rose seemed a little too far off for him. It was really… weird.

Reminiscing to the brief moment he had witnessed before Scorp had left with his parents via External Floo, the small Slytherin felt he had honestly intruded on something too private. Scorp had been subdued, quiet, but all the while warm without the distance that his friend usually employed to everyone, including him. He had insisted Al come to Hogsmeade that weekend and wait at the terminal – "because asking Hadrian or Dom would've been weird"; and Al couldn't help thinking, then, was he the _safe_ choice?

Scorp had smiled – face lighting up when he saw both his parents and Al had wanted to turn away, because the scene felt uncomfortably embarrassing. They were his family; the ones who had taught him to walk, to speak in that patented drawl, to smile in a disdainful way, to stay guarded – and really, everything Uncle Ron had told him seemed to crumble effortlessly with Scorpius' smile.

It wasn't something he should have seen; it was too intimate, too private for him. But he had, and for some reason there was a sizeable amount of guilt brewing at the pit of his stomach.

"- ditch strategies once we get home – er, Al?"

The boy blinked up at his brother who was holding up Adelaide in one hand - the white owl hooted indignantly from her copper cage.

The smaller seeker jerked out of his apparent daze and looked up at his brother's bright brown eyes. "Um, sorry – what?"

James rolled his eyes and nudged Rose, who frowned at glared at him from her book.

"I _said_, we can come up with Quidditch strategies once we get home! C'mon, we're both seekers so we're bound to come up with something."

" – or he wants to try to get all your strategies for a real game," deadpanned the girl, not even looking up from the thick tome, "honestly James, you can be so transparent sometimes."

"I – hey! I just – trying to help him – " The eldest boy looked scandalized, mouth opening and closing in a gape like a fish.

Al tried to smile but turned his eyes to windowpane, watching small crystals of ice form on the glass.

He was still cold.


End file.
